


It Was Only Ever Platonic...Right?

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Teenage Dorks, Teenage Rebellion, i dont wanna bother with tags ope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	It Was Only Ever Platonic...Right?

2:43 at night and here you are in the middle of the freezer section indecisive about which flavor of ice cream to buy. Underneath the jarringly bright, fluorescent lights, you stand with crossed arms and your lip between your teeth as your eyes flicker back and forth between plain vanilla and Tutti Frutti. 

Eyebrow twitching in comical irritation, you complain, “Steve, your foot tapping is annoying.”

Steve—Harrington, as if anyone was talking about any other Steve—only taps more aggressively to the beat of the low music playing from the convenient store’s speakers. “The song’s shitty, but also catchy and I hate it as much as you do.” An exasperated and dramatic sigh. “Will you pick your fucking ice cream already?”

“Go look at the Playboy magazines or something, then. You’re old enough to buy them, though, not like the cashier would even notice if you stole it.” Simultaneously, you both glance down the aisle to the register where the fat cashier sits slumped over the counter snoozing away. 

“If I had a job as boring as that I’d be sleeping too,” Steve sympathizes.

But you’re unamused. “You do have a job as boring as that and you do sleep at the counter.”

“That’s totally ‘cause Robin’s stealing all the hot chicks from me and there’s nothing else to do.”

“Speaking of,” you respond, finally opening the freezer door and pulling out mint chocolate chip, “I can’t believe you found someone who likes girls as much as you.”

He follows like a lackey as you make your way to the chips section. “Longest bet I’ve ever had, but I’m glad I got my fifteen bucks out of it.” In a dorky display of faux nonchalance, he slicks back his hair with an invisible comb and the dumbest look you’ve ever seen him make. 

“Yeah, and you spent my tip money on your hair crap.”

He leans his elbow on one of the shelves, lowering his face to yours, saying, “Don’t make bets you can’t win.”

“Oh, but do remind me of the twenty I won two weeks ago because you still didn’t have a girl by the end of the summer.” Smirking, you shove his head away with a lighthearted push to his forehead. 

“Look, I just wanna know why you made me drive you to Walgreens at two in the morning to get snacks.”

“My car’s in the shop. Duh.”

Fingers with chipped nail polish grab for two cans of Pringles, a bag of Doritos, and one tub of Cheez Balls, handing each item off to the dumbass still waiting for a legitimate answer. The more you pile into his arms, the more impatient he gets until, “Okay, let me rephrase. I just wanna know why you wanna get snacks at two in the morning.”

A resentful sigh is released and you grab one of the Pringles cans for comfort before plopping onto the dirty, tiled floor. “Because Daniel Freeman is an ass and not even worthy enough to be considered the scum on the bottom of my old gym shoes,” you admit with a hardy huff. 

Never have salty chips tasted so good as they do right now as you munch on them, without having paid, with your oldest friend staring at you with an odd look on his face. One of the lights above you flickers, and your heart just about jumps out of your chest before the two of you realize it’s just the light flickering and nothing paranormal is going on. Not anymore. 

“Oh, and tell Robin that Tammy Thompson is also an ass because she’s who he cheated on me with. Neither seemed to care much when I found them doing it under the middle school’s football bleachers.”

“How’d you know that’s where they were ‘doing it’?” he asks, setting the shit down on the floor and settling beside you. You give him a pointed look. “Ew, seriously? The middle school?”

“People always check the high school”, you mumble regretfully, stuffing your mouth full of more chips. 

Unscrewing the red lid of the Cheez Balls and reaching down in, he grabs a generous handful and shoves the entirety of it in his mouth before speaking through chipmunk cheeks, “So, the reason you’re here is…?”

“Because, instead of crying like a little girl, I’ve decided to eat my feelings away.” Matter-of-fact and you’re not going back. Even sitting on a cold, disgusting floor in plaid pajama bottoms and Steve’s t-shirt that you don’t think he realizes is his, eating your weight in unhealthy snacks is all you want right now. 

Steve hums after an audible swallow that you cringe at. “Solid plan, solid plan,” he agrees, nodding his head and causing the entire thing he calls hair to bob with him, “Or we could just egg his house.”

You stand up with new vigor in your bones, startling Steve so much that he drops cheese-covered balls all over the floor. “Let’s get the expensive ones so he indirectly knows how invested I am.”

“What are we supposed to do with all this crap?” Steve questions, gesturing to mess on the ground as he stands.

“Just put the lids back on and pretend we didn’t touch ‘em,” is your only answer as you bound off towards the eggs, leaving Harrington to pick up your mess with grumbles akin to that of an old man.

~ ~ ~

Steve can feel you buzzing with pent up energy and anticipation in the passenger seat of his BMW. He’s parked on the side of the street, just a few houses down from where Freeman lives in such a picturesque neighborhood where nothing must ever go wrong aside from children not getting the toys they wanted for Christmas. He never got what he wanted for Christmas, but you already know that and that’s one person too many in his mind. 

“Eventually someone’s gonna hear the eggs hitting their window, so be ready to book it when the lights come on,” he says as preparation, awkwardly reaching behind him to grab a few cartons for himself. 

“How many houses have you egged, Harrington?” you joke, not expecting his response in the slightest.

“Remember when Tommy’s house was egged three weekends in a row sophomore year and he couldn’t ever find out who it was?”

Laughter bubbles from your throat when the dots connect. “Oh my god, that was you!? Tommy was so pissed he settled with blaming the chess club!” 

There you two are, laughing like idiots while holding a bunch of cartons of expensive eggs. And when you finally settle down, one of you will giggle and set the other off before you’re both breathless with tears at the corners of your eyes again.

“C’mon,” you concede, wiping your eyes, “let’s go egg this douchebag’s house.”

Daniel Freeman lives in a sickeningly quaint, two-story house with a chimney on one side and a two-car garage on the other. The metal mailbox sits in a bed of flowers and gardening rocks and there’s a path lined with various decoration all the way to the front stoop. You don’t know which bedroom is his, or if his is even in the front, so you settle with aiming for each window regardless. 

Like the gentleman he didn’t use to be, Steve lets you have the first official throw, and, bending your arm back and holding the cold shell in your grip, you throw directly towards the front door where it lands with a splat right on their frosted glass. You don’t think anything has ever felt as relieving as this, honestly. 

By the third carton is when Steve’s warning comes true, and the minute the light flicks on is when you two book it back down the street to his car. Not without laughter, of course, as you realize you’d dropped the last full carton right there on the spot. Oh well. 

You’re both leaning against the front, catching your breath, Steve pulling out a cigarette. Watching the lighter flicker to life, watching as he takes a puff and the tip glows a circle of orange, and suddenly you have a really crazy idea. You move from your place to stand in front of him, enjoying his confused expression as you pull the stick from his mouth and toss it carelessly to the ground. Then you kiss him.


End file.
